


The cross and the X

by orphan_account



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Priests, Attempted Seduction, Biting, Church Sex, Demonic Possession, Demons, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, Hand Jobs, I'm Going to Hell, Latin, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Misuse of Crucifix, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Painplay, Rough Sex, Scars, Shower Sex, Succubi & Incubi, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-11-03 20:45:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20552522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It was like nothing he had encountered before. Basil Hawkins resists the temptation that the one demon he hasn't been able to exorcise offers, but just for how long will he stand strong...?





	1. Unshakeable resolve... or is it?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [llutei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/llutei/gifts).

The involuntary jolt brought Hawkins from his slumber and into consciousness with a feeling of lightheadedness. His hand flew to his forehead, wiping the perspiration in a futile attempt to cool himself down, as well as the growing headache. The thin sheets tangled themselves around his feet the more he tried to throw them off, until he finally found contact with the cool tiles of his bedroom flooring, letting out a huff of exhaustion.

It was only 2:26 in the early morning and yet he knew he wouldn’t go back to sleep, as it had happened several nights before. The shadows under his eyes were becoming darker, and thinner his patience on this matter.

Upon starting to drag himself to the bathroom, groping the walls and any piece of furniture in his way (darkness and disorientation made the worst combination), the blond sighed, noticing the second, and most infuriating, issue that had been bothering him as of late.

His half-hard dick.

While he understood that this could very well just be a natural reaction, full stop, it didn’t fully stop at that. Feverish, needy, dizzy, aroused and almost possessed, he was sure it was more than just a common morning wood. Or wee hours in the morning wood.

Slapping the switch of the bathroom lights open, Hawkins shut the door with a careless bang before pressing himself against it. An exasperated palm ran down his flushed face. He stared back at himself through the clear reflection of the mirror; his already pale complexion seemed as fair and sickly as a paper sheet, the fabric of his striped pajamas clung to a body that had grown too lithe for its size, and the sclera of his eyes sported lines of red, perhaps from stress, perhaps from something even he couldn’t understand.

Without wasting another second, nor pondering on why, despite it being so quiet and lonesome in his apartment, he felt anything but alone, Hawkins stripped himself from his clothes and started the shower head. Just as swiftly as he grabbed a hair tie did he twist his long hair into a messy bun, not bothering with the stray hairs that escaped it, and stepped into the tub before pouring the cold water on his warm body. He hissed from the shock, but dismissed any concern towards earning a cold; maybe he did need a couple of days of staying home and sorting things out.

The cold shower went on for minutes and minutes, then some more. While he did enjoy full-blown, bath bombs and salts and oils and scented candles baths the most, showers, even “dutiful” ones such as this, he couldn’t help getting lost in as well. So immersed in it, Hawkins barely registered the cold turning lukewarm, only startling when it scorched his skin, before it turned into a pleasant kind of warm again.

He was about to step out of his once safe haven to check and attempt to fix any issues with the boiler when he felt himself rooted in place, feet stuck to the slippery surface of the bathtub bottom. Something pressed against his back, something rough and sturdy, warm, yet smooth and comfortable, chilly at the same time. The feeling wrapped itself around Hawkins’ head as it did around his thin waist, dangerously close to his member. Frustrated, he felt it twitching back to life, and growled. His heart pounded against his ribcage, and the hairs on his uncovered nape stood on end at the feeling of something akin to a warm breath ghosting across his ear. He closed his tired eyes and swallowed thickly, feeling the attention shift to his hardening cock.

A chuckle echoed somewhere, in the room, in his mind, he knew and cared not. It was deep, low, alluring, and Hawkins was sure that it would have made his legs wobble anxiously had he not been utterly paralyzed. Feeling so overwhelmed, so absolutely aware of the presence other than his own, yet the mirror showed no one other than the naked Hawkins.

“Giving up alrea-”

“_Vade retro_,” spoke the priest, finally, through a shaky voice. Not as convincing as he would have desired, but at the very least he managed to suppress the excited grunt at the electric shock of his cock being pumped at a steady pace. His shudder didn’t go unnoticed, however, and the grip on his erection grew slightly tighter, more delicious. Slick with water and precum, whatever force was dragging him into the depths of pleasure could easily treat his cock with fast strokes, and Hawkins groaned weakly. “M-Monster…” Invisible teeth grazed his ear, and what felt like a pointy claw rearranged some of the stray hairs, away from his neck.

“You don’t seem so convinced, you know?” The sharp digit dug into the sensitive skin of his neck and drew burning circles in its wake. The naked priest gasped, and unwillingly tried to lean into whatever it was that supported his shaky body, but it remained firm in its incapability to shift. The nail trailed lower and circled around the ebony cross tattooed on the base of Hawkins’ neck. It purred before dipping its digit across the ink; the reaction from the devil, a hiss lacing both pain and pleasure together, and Hawkins cursed mentally, so undeniably turned on, cock quivery and throbbing inside the evil force that drew harsh tugs around it. “These damn crosses are so troublesome… You aren’t so strong without your adored crucifix, though, are you?”

He was so close. So, so upsettingly close to coming undone with the relentless, rough treatment. His chest heaved harshly, and he could no longer quiet the ragged pants and puffs of hot air. The rushing of blood in his ears deafened him from the outer world: he couldn’t hear the running water nor his own sounds of pleasure. Only his raging blood and that voice. Its voice. That otherworldly, sinful creature’s voice that definitely was doing things to his sanity.

The heart of the powerless mortal skipped a beat upon the feel of sharp fangs retracing the path that its claw had drawn in red over white. His eyes snapped open, maroon flashing from the lustful cloud it had been captive in. The sharp pain of being bitten, tasted, marked… It brought his voice back.

“_Vade retro, Satan!_” he repeated, firm and powerful voice booming through the quiet room. He felt the restraints falter, if the possibility to wiggle his toes and fingers was any indication. “_Crux Sacra sit mihi lux._” No longer was he being stimulated, and despite the itch of denying himself what promised to be an earthshattering orgasm, Hawkins found strength in his hatred towards the devil to announce: “_Non draco sit mihi dux!_”

Stillness. Along with the sudden calmness, Hawkins could no longer feel its presence. He tried moving his limbs and, being successful, heaved a sigh of relief and leaned against the damp wall. The cold turned to its initial temperature, and the priest shivered as the stream of cold water hit him, bringing him back to reality. The headache remained, and after having been exposed to the sudden temperature changes in the water, he could safely assure that the odds of actually catching a cold were around 70%. He exhaled.

The clergyman knew it wasn’t gone for good. The prayer would only help him for a very limited amount of time, which Hawkins deeply hoped would be enough to put himself together. As he stepped out of his eventful shower and, once again, stared back at himself in the mirror, regarding the red scratches that shone like neon on the pale skin of his neck, and the weeping line of dots that he would need to cover with his collar, he wondered with a frown…

_“How long will it take your resolve to shatter?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vade retro: Get away.
> 
> Crux Sacra sit mihi lux: The Holy Cross be my light.
> 
> Non draco sit mihi dux: May the dragon never be my guide.
> 
> ~~~~~~~~
> 
> There we go, my first Drakins fic and my actual first non reader-insert... Woohoo~!
> 
> *bathes in holy water*
> 
> I'd like to gift this work to lovely llutei for successfully dragging me into this hell. Thank you very much. I hope you'll enjoy this fic as much as I'm enjoying writing it!
> 
> Based on llutei's amazing art featuring the OP x Demon/Priest AU! It was so lovely and hot that I just had to try my hand at putting some words together for it~


	2. Greed will be you end

“We didn’t know who to turn to anymore.” Hawkins stared at the door behind the couple. While the female wept and clung to the sleeve of her husband’s shirt, the man did his best to provide the details of the bizarre situation. The priest only half listened, seemingly more interested in his surroundings, the atmosphere around them; not as interested in what he could see, he wanted to know about what he could feel. The air felt heavy and warm, unusually so for a rainy November evening. They weren’t alone.

“I’ll see what I’m capable of...” He spoke with a calmness that almost eased the marriage’s sorrow; Hawkins had been told that his voice was a kind ointment, but he never purposefully used it to play anyone into his court. And, as confident as he felt, there was the nagging discomfort poking at the back of his mind, as if no matter how experienced he was, no matter how many exorcisms he had performed, successfully at that, no matter the name his colleagues had so gracefully crowned him with, the Magician, for he made any and all evil forces vanish as a performer would one shiny coin... Something told him that this time was different.

The smell of damp asphalt grounded him. No. He knew he had a special talent as a priest and as an exorcist. Nodding curtly, he stepped forward, turned the doorknob and made his way into the dark room; the concerned parents walked in tow, almost afraid. He couldn’t blame them.

“For some reason, the lights in this room don’t work. We’ve tried changing the bulbs and even buying new lamps, but nothing ever works.” The father’s shaky voice commented before Hawkins could reach for the switch of the room; his first attempt at reeling the evil away had failed, devils were always stronger in the black. He sighed quietly, yet far from disheartened he delved into the room, solely guided by the strained breathing coming from the furthest corner.

It was a silky voice laced with exhaustion and pain. The lamps aiding the last hours of light outside only cast a thin sliver upon the body. Flushed, damp skin and small, parted lips. Her eyes were shut tightly, to the point of drawing lines of fake age to her brow. The poor vessel was young, beautiful and most likely naïve. An easy meal for an incubus.

Hawkins knelt down by her bed, and only upon noticing his cool breath on her cheek did she open her eyes. To his surprise, they were perfectly normal, human. Two wide jewels that stared at him with clarity. Her brow arched upwards in what could have been described as either pain or pleasure. Hawkins would discard neither. He called her name, and she moaned positively. Good, she was lucid.

“W-Who are you?” She was breathless, seemingly flushing more when his nimble fingers reached to part her fringe. With a soft handkerchief, he dabbed her sweaty forehead clean and free of perspiration, before taking a flask from the leather bag that he had brought with himself and placed next to his knees.

“I’m Father Basil Hawkins, and I am here to make all evil go away, my child.” With fingers damp on Holy water, he drew a cross on the expanse of skin above her raised eyebrows, mumbling the regulatory “_In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen._”

She turned her head away from him, and he noticed that the lobes of her ears were dotted in small, star-shaped pieces of gold. That he would usually be hired by a wealthy family came across as no surprise. After all, exorcisms were anything but affordable, only the best of the best could economically rely on them, while poor families with not enough income could turn to the Holy Church in times of utter desperation, only to have their goods pawned and torn away from them. Unfair and corrupt as it was, no one belonging to this business had ever complained about it. Not even Hawkins. Especially not Hawkins.

He would have never achieved the reputation he has today if he had complained.

The sudden jerk of her head made Hawkins flinch out of his thoughts, a feminine yelp echoing somewhere behind him. Reflexively reaching for the discarded handkerchief, he poured an amount of blessed water on it before pressing the cloth to her eyes, effectively managing to keep the threatening spasms of her head at bay.

Words fell from his lips in a hushed whisper while his free hand drew a cross in the air, one on his chest and the third one on her own. She gasped, and both hands of hers flew to grip his own, stopping it before it could leave her heaving chest. Hawkins grunted, abruptly halting his prayers, suddenly surprised and overwhelmed by the pressure she was applying to his wrist; within mere seconds he could feel the tips of his fingers growing numb, and he struggled against her delicate digits, firmly calling her name.

“What is it, Father?” Her breathy voice brought his gaze to her face, where he found plush lips caught in between pearly white teeth. Her breath left her in almost visible puffs of hot air, and he only became aware of her strength relenting once he found his hand cupping her soft mound through the thin fabric of her nightgown. Hawkins tried to jerk it away, but her fingers (and, by what he could tell, an outer force) forced his hand to massage her breast, digging the heel of its palm against her hardened nipple; this drew a moan so loud an indecent from her that he wondered why her parents hadn’t stepped in by now. “How do you intend on making what is plaguing me, my body, my every thought go away when you aren’t even treating it directly?”

She dragged his arm down her torso, forcing him to feel the planes of smooth skin that felt too hot even through her clothes. The priest couldn’t bring himself to break free from her grip, and instantly felt his mind go blank, not even managing to utter her name, when he felt her slick through the barrier of light underwear. He breathed in deeply, resuming his prayers as firmly as he could, slightly louder than before, but her hand never let his own get away.

“Oh,” she muttered, and the priest felt the grip on the cloth he had kept pressed against her eyes loosen, slowly showing an unnatural shade of flames and lust in her irises as it felt to the floor. They stared deep into his own crimson eyes, a quivering smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “This won’t do, will it? Then…”

“RELEASE MY SON THIS INSTANT, YOU SICK SON OF A BITCH!”

_…Son?_

Hawkins could only register the new situation for a few seconds. Behind him, a furious man prepared to leap at him with what he assumed was his dominant hand curled up into a fist. Before him, a bulky chest covered by absolutely nothing except a long X in ebony ink, strong arms, sharp jawline, shaggy ginger sideburns to match disheveled hair and a pair of lustful blue eyes. The thin hand that used to hold onto his wrist was now easily covering it, thumb massaging his pulse line endearingly. The only cloth in sight was the one under the priest’s hand, dark in color and undoubtedly tented by the erection he was currently palming.

_How?_

A few seconds indeed, but the slowest few he had experienced in his whole life, for sure. It felt like he was moving in slow motion to ignore the sight before him and turn around towards the raging father, either to stop the attack or to receive the blow directly; the latter would at the very least wake him up from this illusion-

Darkness.

When he regained the natural notion of time, Hawkins realized that he wasn’t in the room with the possessed vessel, the weeping mother and the menacing father. He was literally in the middle of nowhere, from what he could see, or couldn’t. The air felt heavy, heavier than when he had stepped into that house, and a gentle musk wafted in the empty atmosphere. The man felt his head rushing, his black world spinning, and finally collapsed to his knees, grasping the strands of hair that fell in front of his face as if it would quieten the intense headache.

“You are a boring one, did you know?” The voice came from somewhere around him, and it took the blond a few moments and booming echoes to realize that whatever had spoken was above him. Lifting his gaze, he found a tall, broad figure towering over his kneeling body, which suddenly felt too small. How could an object cast shadow in the darkness? He felt colder under the creature, and bared his teeth in a hateful snarl. The demon scoffed, amused. “Now, that’s not what I’d say. You’re fun. Incredibly so. Feeling better about yourself?”

Hawkins tried to move away from it, but no matter how far his legs dragged him away, the demon appeared to be too close for comfort at all times. He tripped over his robes and cursed loudly; somewhere in the darkness, it barked a laugh that made his blood run cold, but also boil with something other than sheer frustration. That’s what he wished he was feeling, anyway.

“What are those filthy words on the lips of a priest as distinguished as yourself?” Hawkins experienced a full-body jerk when it suddenly appeared on top of him, straddling his thin waist.

His mouth went dry, and the only movement he could manage was that of his gaze following the lazy swish of a lithe tail. Some dim light faded in between their bodies as the creature forced their chests flush against each other, one heavily covered while the other was just skin and muscles on display. He could see a wide jaw, sharp nose, thick neck and fierce eyes. Scars marred its face and it had forearms that pushed him down to the illusion of a ground where he was rooted. The fire in his eyes burned brightly against the blackness of his sclera. It was a he. A goddamn handsome he at that.

“_Goddamn_ isn’t a very nice word to even cross your mind, wouldn’t you say, clergyman?” The priest tried not to look anxious upon knowing that he was at the mercy of a mischievous creature who could very well read his mind and was walking the road towards controlling his every perception of reality. He tried to empty his mind and just stared blankly at the demon, ignoring the raise in his thin eyebrows, the momentary frown and the infuriating smirk that managed to stretch across his face to the point Hawkins thought it would split it in two like in a frightening nightmare.

Oh, this truly was one.

“Go away, evil creature. I fear you not,” started the priest, closing his eyes and continuing his prayer while feeling himself slide away from the cage that was a devil with a body larger than his own. The world behind his closed lids seemed to lighten up, yet his voice never wavered, not until he could feel that reality and reality alone was what surrounded him. He wondered when the illusion had started, if he would have to explain to those desperate parents that the lewd touching was not willing, whether-

“Whoa there.” His eyes snapped open, and he was once again trapped in the dark, the difference being that the proximity he was sharing with the devil was considerably smaller than before he started escaping from his grasp. He clicked his tongue, breathing heavily, yet feeling the puffs against himself as they bounced from the pair of lips that stood too close to his own. The musk grew stronger and he almost lost whatever little balance his arms provided as they barely kept him upright on the floor. “Where do you think you’re going? I’m absolutely certain I’m not quite done with you…” A long tongue came out from those inviting lips and tasted Hawkins’, ensuring a quiet gasp from the priest.

“W-What do you want from me?” His voice breathy and an annoying pressure in his crotch, the mortal couldn’t bring himself to believe that this was all happening. It felt exactly like the real dream he was in, and he wondered just what would make him snap into reality.

But no. His reality was the sharp claws that were tugging at his dark clothes, ripping his collar and his small cross necklace and slowly exposing inches and inches of pale skin to taste and mark. Fuck, he could feel himself throbbing in his pants.

“I want to break you.” The answer came teasingly, and Hawkins almost moaned into the kiss that came next. His control was slipping, the more he tasted the sinful fucker keeping him in place, and the more he heard him speak. “I want to ravage you, utterly and completely. Make you mine, mark you. I want you to mark me as yours too, my little wayward lamb…”

The blond tried to reach for anything as the kiss deepened, one smooth knee parting his legs and steadily rubbing against his straining erection. He tried for his hair, but decided against it when the first pull proved to be pleasurable for the devil, a deep groan being the proof; his conscience was slipping in and out, he wished to burn the bitch alive just as much as he wanted this fire to consume him.

His second try had him reaching for the silver of his discarded crucifix, and everything seemed to fall into place, despite the love bites being placed on his abused lips. Grasping it tightly, his other hand brought itself to the devil’s head, where he found a pair of long horns that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed earlier. He tugged at one of them, and the demon groaned loudly in displeasure when he was forcefully pulled back.

“You frisky little-” The clarity in Hawkins’ crimson eyes seemed to take him by surprise; either that or the back of the burning crucifix that was tightly slammed against his chin. It was silent and calm as the pain of the burn started to kick in, a sizzling sound in the air, and a deafening, inhuman screech that was the last thing Hawkins heard before-

Light.

Blinking several times, and as his ears adjusted after the blood-curling scream, the first thing he noticed was that everything on his face remained where it should be, that no blood seeped from his nostrils, that no tooth was missing. No one had punched him and he honestly would rather have it that way. He gulped the tight lump in his throat, feeling that the neat collar around his neck constricted the path of saliva; even that sounded too loud in his ears now.

It was just loud crying and gentle hushing behind him. And a hand weakly clinging to his hand, fingers intertwined with his longer ones. He knew this hand, smooth nails, soft skin, it was thin, and looked paler. It was cold.

Hawkins closed his eyes.

He got up from shaky knees, yet as distinguished as he could, and turned to regard the family and give his condolences. Not even three words hung in the air and the father spoke.

“Get out of here. This was obviously all a fraud. I don’t want to see you or hear of your services ever again.”

He wanted to speak up, to defend his reputation and that of the Church, but after what he had experienced for the first time in all his years in the business of exorcisms, he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to even believe his excuses himself. So he just remained quiet and nodded.

With a silent sigh, Hawkins rearranged his equipment with nothing but the quiet hiccups from the mother, the series of curses from the father. Straightening up, he spared a few seconds to bow his head at the corpse and draw a final cross in the air before he left with an empty pocket, no crucifix (whichever its whereabouts he dared not ponder on) and a feeling of dread tugging at his heart.

It- He wasn’t gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
Happy birthday, noodle man.  
(Just kidding I swear I'll do something other for his birthday that doesn't involve driving him nuts... at least not in the negative sense ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°))
> 
> In case you're confused, this was Hawkins' first contact with this devil~
> 
> Alternate story: Hawkins foretells that something will go wrong with the exorcism and stays at home instead, cuddling his covers and enjoying his precious scented baths. Give him a break Drake ffs.


End file.
